by Abby Angel
"It's no secret that I don't have any interest in you whatsoever," he says. His voice is cold and distant, and even though I've known this to be true for our entire marriage, it still hurts to hear him say it. "But it's important that we keep up appearances for the public—for the sake of this campaign. You will not compromise my bid for mayor."
I watch as he pulls a cigar from his desk drawer and lights it. I never see him smoke anymore. In fact, I thought he quit. I watch as blue smoke fills the room. On the one hand, I'm relieved to no longer be hiding and carrying this secret from Michael, but on the other hand, I know I've only been partially honest and that still sits inside of me like a boulder.
He exhales and continues, "You can't go public." He's like a lion that has cornered its prey. He can feel that power, and it spurs him on. He's opportunistic, and he's out for blood.
"I understand," I say, resigned and submissive.
"Good. Now let's have this baby."
Lance
I have a bad feeling. A bad fucking one. Deep inside of me there’s something gnawing, something poking holes in the happiness I’m feeling. I’ve never been a fucking superstitious kind of guy, but I can’t help it… I’m fucking worrying and I don’t even know why. It’s just a bad fucking feeling.
I have no reason to feel like this, though: I’ve met the perfect woman and everything’s going just great between the two of us. We had a rocky fucking start, that’s for sure, but things are better now. Sure, it’s not a fucking perfect situation, with my father and all… But as long as we have each other, everything will work out. Right? Yes, that’s fucking right.
Of course, life never does what you fucking expect it to do.
Worry turns into a sinking feeling in my stomach the moment I get home; Jocelyn is leaving my father’s office, looking down at the floor with an expression that tells me there's bad fucking news coming my way. She shuts the door behind her and heads down the corridor, not even noticing I’m here. I reach for her, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her to me.
“Hey, hey. What’s wrong? Something happened with my father?” She stops, dead in her tracks, but doesn’t even fucking look me in the eyes. “Are you okay?” Slowly, she raises her eyes and faces me; her pursed lips a distant impression of her smile.
“Everything’s okay, Lance,” she says, ice coating each one of her words. She takes one step back, forcing me to let go of her. “I just don’t know how to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I ask, not liking the fucking direction this conversation is taking. What the fuck is going on?
“It’s over, Lance. It was good while it lasted, but…” She licks her bottom lip, pausing while she tries to find the right words, but then just repeats herself. “It’s over.”
“Over? What the hell are you talking about?” I reach for her again, pulling her into the kitchen and slamming the fucking door behind us, making sure that we’re out of my father’s earshot. We can’t be over! What is this fucking nonsense?
Looking at me, Jocelyn manages a faded smile. “We’re over. It’s time to put an end to it. I know you can’t, so I’m doing it for you.”
I stand there like a fucking asshole, looking at her with an expression of pure disbelief on my face. Why is she saying all these fucking things? This doesn’t seem like her.
“Why?” I ask her, the sound of my fucking voice sounding foreign to my own ears. This can’t be fucking happening. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again, almost as if she doesn’t know what to say. Running one hand through her hair, she bites down on her lower lip, and I see her eyes starting to water. I try and reach for her, but she turns her back to me, looking out the window. I don’t even know what to fucking say, so I just wait for her to regain her composure.
“Just go, Lance. You wanted to leave, didn’t you? To go to Europe? So go. There’s nothing holding you here.” She couldn’t be any more fucking wrong about that. How can she even say this when she was the one that asked me to stay?
“I can’t leave. You know that… I can’t leave you,” I say, my heart racing, and this time it isn’t a pleasant fucking feeling. There’s fear in my bones, fear of what’s happening right now. Fear of losing the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me.
“Not anymore, Lance. Just face it: this was fun, but it’s time we both face the real world. You’re just a kid, and I’m your stepmother. What did you think would happen?”
I take one step toward her, and grabbing her arm, make her turn to me. There are fucking tears streaming down her face, and I brush the back of my hand over her wet cheek. Just seeing her cry makes my heart fucking tighten up, rage coursing through me. I just want to punch whomever or whatever is making her feel like this, and the worst fucking part is that I don’t even know where to direct my rage.
“Do you want to know what I think? I think that I love you. I think that I want to be right here, close to you.” She shuts her eyes, and I feel her close to the breaking point. Somehow, she manages to hold her own, even though she’s on the verge of sobbing. I pull her into me, putting my arms around her and holding her tight, my hand on the back of her head. We remain like that for a whole minute, standing in silence as I hear her heart steadily beating against my chest. “It’ll be okay,” I whisper, not knowing if I believe my own fucking words. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay… I love you, that’s all that matters.”
She remains in silence, but then two heartbeats after my words, she pushes me away. Brushing away her tears, she looks me in the eyes, an icy kind of determination there. I feel as if the whole world is crashing around me and I can’t do a fucking thing about it. I’m fucking powerless.
“But I… But I don’t love you. I never did,” she says, the words cutting through me like a fucking knife. My heart tightens inside my chest, and I feel my blood turning into ice. It can’t be true… It’s just not fucking possible. She loves me, I know it.
“You’re lying… Why are you saying these things?” I ask her, feeling as if someone was trying to pull the ground from under my feet. This can’t be fucking happening.
“Lying? You’re just a kid, Lance. I never loved you,” she repeats, the words hitting me like a brick again. If someone ran over me with a fucking tank and then shot me in the chest I wouldn’t feel half as bad as I do right now. “You’re nice to look at, and you sure know what you’re doing between the sheets… But that’s all there is to it. What do you think I was going to do? Throw away a stable life because of a fling with a kid?”
I stand there, my feet fucking glued to the floor as I take in her words. I’m listening, but I do not comprehend any of it. Why the fuck is she saying all this? And why the fuck is it getting so hard to breathe?
“Then… why did you pretend? Why did you fake it all this time?”
“I never thought you’d actually believe all that. It was just… a fling. Something to keep myself busy. A fantasy. Nothing less, nothing more. And now, it’s time for it to be over.”
With that, she walks past me, hitting me with her shoulder. I don’t turn as she leaves the kitchen, not even bothering to close the door. I remain there for what seems like forever, not knowing what to do. Everything was going so great… And now this.
I think of going after her, but to what fucking end? She seems hell bent on crushing what we had, and I can’t force her to fucking love me.
I take two steps toward the counter and uncap one of the whisky bottles my father keeps around. Reaching for a glass, I pour myself a hefty dose, downing it in one single gulp. Then I pour myself another, giving it the same fucking treatment. It doesn’t take long for the alcohol to rage through my veins, a soothing sensation taking over me.
What the fuck do I do now? I was a fucking idiot! What the fuck was I thinking? She’s right… Whatever we had between us, it was doomed right from the fucking start. She’s my stepmother, for fuck’s sake! Did I expect my fucking father to give us his blessing? Did I expect the whole world to fucking app
laud as we broke all sorts of taboos? How could I be so fucking naive?
But then I remember the first time I saw her, every curve in her body calling to me, her beautiful face like a fucking mirage… Maybe it was wrong, but it was fucking bound to happen.
I leave the kitchen and head to my room, walking up the stairs as if I was in a fucking daze. There, I close the door and sit on the edge of the bed, my eyes wandering to the corner of the room: the suitcase I thought of taking with me to Europe is still there, staring back at me as if it were fucking mocking me.
Maybe she’s right… Maybe I should just fucking pack up, leave, and put everything that happened behind my back. London, Paris, Berlin—all cities brimming with beautiful women… I can go anywhere I fucking want.
But it’s not that fucking simple and, deep down, I know it. I can’t wipe my memory clean and go on about my life as if she had never crossed my life. Because she did. She fucking did...
And now that’s she gone, I’m fucking lost.
New York Daily Journal
From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.
Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:
Well if you ever wondered whether the stork that brings babies had any party affiliation, we now know he may very well be a Republican. That’s all because of the rather timely press release from the Mayor’s office today that he and his wife, Jocelyn Anders, are expecting a child.
That’s right, New York. Hizzoner is going to be a father.
The news of Jocelyn Anders being pregnant is expected now to burnish an already stellar view that the city has of him as a devoted family man. Who can resist a tiny baby wrapped up and looking cute?
It also comes with the added bonus of being impervious to any of the attacks that Mayor Anders’ rival, Jim Jenkins, has thrown at him in the past in terms of politicizing his family just to score points with the voters. You can bet that Michael Anders isn’t going to hesitate bringing out a pregnant Jocelyn to every ceremony and campaign stop now.
But what about the other male Anders in the family? The hot, bad boy? My sources in the Anders campaign confirm he hasn't been seen in the last couple of days, but here’s a bit of juicy gossip for you. Deep cover sources tell me that there was some sort of blow-up between the now pregnant Jocelyn and Lance. Can the pregnancy of his stepmother be vexing for the Mayor’s prodigal son? Well, we don’t know for sure, but it sure looks like it. Is someone possibly getting jealous that they won’t be getting all the attention from his parents? Well, New York, I’ll tell you this; if Lance ever needs attention or thinks he’s being neglected, I’m sure there are a million women in this city who will be more than happy to show him a good time and take care of his every need.
With about a month left until the election, it certainly looks like the Mayor has his re-election in the bag. Since his announcement of his wife’s pregnancy, he’s launched a vast array of proposals designed to better support the working women of the city—a demographic that he’s struggled with in the past. Is it going to be enough to push him over the edge? Well, let’s just say this; if the Mayor plays his cards right, he may actually end up not just winning, but winning with such a landslide vote that he’ll go into the next term with the people of the city united behind him.
But before you start getting comfortable and thinking that it’s time to move on to the next thing competing for your attention, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn’t say that I think there’s still questions that need to be answered. Isn’t it just a little too convenient that this baby is on the way right before the election? And does Hizzoner have any secrets that could end up coming out at the eleventh hour that might take away from his baby bump? A lot can happen in a little under four weeks—and there’s still a lot of balls in the air, so don’t get too comfortable, Gotham. Till we know more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
Jocelyn
“This city was built on the values of family,” Michael says to an approving audience. “And it's gotten us through the tough times. We will only be great by continuing to cherish our values and holding ourselves to a higher standard!”
I look toward the clapping and cheering audience. They’re enthusiastically holding signs that read “Bring Back Our Values” and “Anders - Character Counts.”
If they only knew.
“I pledge that my second term in office will see the restoration of the old values that made this city the center of the world,” Michael declares. “And that people who flout those values don’t get a free pass while the rest of the city follows the rules and plays fairly.”
People nod and clap. Michael looks over in my direction. It’s just for a second and it’s a fleeting glance but I know he’s checking on me.
I bring my hands to clap and give a weak smile. It should be enough to let me continue to blend in the background.
Besides, I’m the pregnant wife, remember? I can be excused for having to leave. Or wanting to sit down.
Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.
Every. Single. Morning.
Just saying that I can’t make it due to the pregnancy. That I can’t stand next to this man and smile and clap while he tells the people of the city how much values are important to him.
“My friends, if every one of us cherished the same family values that are under assault, we’d have a stronger, more vibrant city without spending a single cent!”
The crowd loves this. Not surprising. They see a charismatic leader with his pregnant wife standing next to him and they think he’s figured out this world. Well, he's figured it out alright. He’s figured out the art of manipulation. Of blackmail and deceit.
“I know that I personally am a stronger candidate since Jocelyn got pregnant,” Michael says, running out the tired phrase all over again. He’s got to remind New Yorkers about his pregnant wife. In case they missed it on the ads that are on the subways, buses, and taxis. Or the commercials playing on television. “She tells me I have to be home by 8 pm so you know what it makes me do? It makes me work harder and get up earlier. So I can be there for her exclusively in the evening.”
Yesterday Michael didn't even come home in the evening. I only saw him this morning, wearing the same clothes. He looked well rested and I knew he had been with someone else. He didn’t even think to explain it to me. He just nodded in my direction and went to shower as I watched him silently.
As he was showering, I looked at his clothes. I still remember the smell of the cologne. It took me all of two seconds to know where I’ve smelled it before—that’s Kenneth’s signature fragrance.
I mean, how many times has Lance told you about Michael cheating on me. How many times have I?
But I’m sorry, hon. I don't mean to come across like what I just sounded like. I’m not trying to be a bitch.
And before you tell me it’s okay, I’m not upset that Michael is cheating on me with a man. I’m really okay with that part, if you can believe that. I mean, God works in mysterious ways. If Michael is attracted to Kenneth, or to another man, me spreading my legs and flashing my tits isn’t going to work on him. Considering that he’s never even kissed me, I don’t really feel betrayed or hurt.
No, what really riles me more than anything else is that Michael gets to go have his fun while the one man that I want—that I crave—is out of my reach. The one man…
“Lance, my son,” Michael booms and just hearing that name snaps me back to reality. I don't really care what crock of bullshit Michael’s feeding them. I want Lance. I want his arms around me. I want him squeezing me against his hard body. I want to feel his giant cock pulsing against my pussy as he grabs my ass and squeezes it. I want that salty semen of his to fill me up, like it has so many times. I want to ride him until he makes me cum and the world’s problems melt away.
And then afterwards, I want him to hold me as I bask in contented satisfaction. In his arms, I kno
w that I was happy.
“Lance,” Michael continues. “Couldn’t be here today, because he's doing some important work for the campaign in the Bronx, but I’m sure that even he would agree that his life has turned around greatly since he’s come home and had the stability of family.”
Now that’s a low blow. Michael not only neglected his stepson to the point where Lance acted out. But now he’s taking credit for Lance’s turnaround?
You know what, I really don’t care anymore. I miss the man who's the love of my life. But I can’t be with him because I’m blackmailed into staying in a loveless marriage. To have a baby for a man that’s hiding his identity from the world.
“Lance would be the first person to agree that a happy, trusting, and honest home is what makes him successful,” Michael says.
I can’t help but scowl. There are times that I hate this man. They seem to be happening more and more frequently. If there was only some way to get out of…
“Not liking what you hear?” a voice whispers into my ear.
It’s too low to be caught by the crowds or the cameras.
I turn around slightly to see Kenneth standing next to me.
My first thought is if it looks odd that Kenneth is talking to me during Michael’s speech. But after doing plenty of these campaign stops I realize that form the crowd it’ll only look like logistical discussions between members of the campaign. They’re fixated on Michael’s oratory. Not on me.
“Did you not hear me, Mrs. Anders?” Kenneth asks again. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of the Mayor.”
Now my body freezes. I don’t know if it’s fear. Kenneth isn’t one to inspire fear. He’s more catty than anything else. But there is caution. And wariness. Whereas Lance could kill someone if he got angry enough, I know Kenneth could meticulously plan their complete destruction.
